In The Days To Come
by AnyankaCEJ
Summary: It's almost sixteen years in the future, but the saga of Theresa, Ethan, Gwen, and the children still isn't over. GwenEthan, TheresaFox, and OCs.
1. At the Winthrops

**Title**: In the Days To Come

**Author**: AnyankaCEJ

**Disclaimer**: As I'm sure you've all guessed, neither _Passions_ nor any of its characters belong to me. If they did, I certainly wouldn't be sitting around merely writing fanfic about them. Anyway, no profit is intended, so if you're NBC or JER, please don't sue.

**Rating**: PG-13, let's say

**Setting/Spoilers**: Branches off from the current "Rapist!Theresa And The Twins Of Uncertain Parentage" storyline, up until she's rushed to the hospital with complications. For the purposes of this fic, I'm assuming that one baby is Ethan/Gwen and the other Ethan/Theresa, which is far from certain, and that they both survive, which is also far from certain (In reality, I suspect that one is E/G and the other T/F, and hope that they'll both make it). Actual setting will be close to sixteen years in the future, though if it were to occur on the actual show, it'd probably happen in just four or five years.

**A/N**: I'm a Gwen fan, something that seems pretty rare on I have been almost since I started watching in December of 2000, most likely always will be, and I'm not going to apologize for it. Until relatively recently, though, I was NOT a G/E 'shipper. On the contrary, I wanted The Teary One to get her man, if only so that Gwen could escape third wheel status.

All that changed during the death of Sarah storyline, and ever since that I've been passionately and ideologically opposed to Therethan ever getting back together, since I feel that, though everyone _including_ Gwen bears some responsibility for the tragedy, Theresa was the catalyst for Sarah's death, and Ethan would be beyond despicable if he could ever be happy with Theresa after what they'd done. And, over the past year, the amazing chemistry between Eric Martsolf and Liza Huber has convinced me, almost completely against my will, that Ethan and Gwen really do belong together.

Lest you think I'm a Theresa basher, let me just say that I adore the girl; I just think of her as a fabulous villainess who truly believes that she's a latter-day Cinderella-like heroine, but not that she's an _actual _heroine. That said, if you passionately hate Gwen and blindly worship Theresa, you're probably not going to enjoy this story, so proceed with caution.

* * *

The entirety of the Winthrop family had just sat down together to eat the dinner that their cook had prepared for them. Such an old-fashioned, _Leave it to Beaver_-style insistence on family togetherness might be unexpected these days in the fast-paced of the chief attorney for Crane Industries, and his wife, the current owner and CEO of Hotchkiss Enterprises, but Ethan and Gwen Winthrop had always been determined to provide their nearly sixteen year-old twins Abigail and Douglas with the sort of warm and stable home life that they themselves had never experienced, which also explained why the two were the first in their families for generations on both sides not to attend boarding school.

"So, how was school today?" Ethan asked, as per usual, once everyone had settled in to eat.

"Pretty good, except that that Madeleine girl thinks _she _should be running the paper just by virtue of being a year ahead, the Californian airhead," Abigail replied casually, before pausing. She didn't want to alarm her parents, but they'd always been very firm that she and her brother should let them know right away whenever this happened. So, she continued, but in a more subdued tone, "Oh, and the Madwoman has been bugging us again."

Gwen nearly choked on her linguini, and Ethan's glass inadvertently came crashing down onto the table at the mention of their daughter's nickname for her Aunt Theresa. "What happened?" Gwen asked simply, maintaining the calm façade she'd developed through years of practice.

"Same as the last few times, she waited for school to let out and ambushed us as we left the building," Douglas explained with a sigh, as if the occurrence had become nearly as routine as bad weather.

Gwen and Ethan shared a worried look. "Did she try to make you leave with her?" Ethan asked.

"No," said Abigail, "not _this _time. She just threw herself at us like always, and started calling us "her babies" and ranted about how sorry she was that we were "stolen" away from her. I swear, the woman's a total psychopath. I still don't understand why she's so obsessed with me after all these years. I mean, she's not even mybiological mother."

"And I wish to God she wasn't _mine_," Douglas added bitterly. As far as he was concerned, Gwen, the woman who'd raised him from infancy and treated him no differently from her own child, was his only real mother. In fact, if it hadn't been for the fact that his thick black hair and dark complexion set him apart so tellingly from his very Anglo-Saxon family and his blonde "twin," it might have been much longer before the constant, fixated attention and occasional kidnapping attempts from his Uncle Fox's wife had made him suspect anything, but, as it was, he'd found out Theresa was his biological mother and not just his mother's surrogate well before his tenth birthday. His parents had then tried to protect him from the whole story surrounding his conception, but Harmony being such a small town, and the custody case he had been the center of being something of a local legend, he inevitably found out several years ago, leaving the teenager with a passionate hatred of Theresa. Maybe he was being judgmental, but he just didn't feel like calling the woman who'd drugged and raped his father into getting pregnant because she'd needed a bargaining chip "Mother." "She thinks she's got some sort of Divine Right to interfere with our lives, just because she gave birth to us. Why won't she ever understand that Abby and I don't want her around?"

"That's just the way she is," Ethan replied wearily, no longer objecting to his children's attacks on the woman, having lost all residual feelings for his former love many years ago, when she'd implored him to leave Gwen and marry her, because it looked as though his and Gwen's second daughter might not live, while her own newborn son was thriving. At that moment, as her insensitivity shocked and appalled him, he realized, very much to his own surprise, that for a long time now he really did love Gwen and _only_ Gwen, and was going to fight with all his might to keep his marriage alive.

His little girl managed to pull through, thank God, but when DNA tests revealed the other twin to be his with Theresa, Gwen had been ready to divorce him once and for all, understandably not believing his story. He wasn't about to give up on her, though, and had stunned Theresa, who was predictably certain that Ethan was going to marry her now, when he informed her that he intended to sue for full custody of _his_ son. Thankfully, when the custody battle proved once and for all what she had really done, he'd been awarded full custody, and Gwen finally forgave him. Little Ethan, as agreed upon, was returned to Theresa, although Gwen and Ethan had retained generous visitation rights.

The next decade-and-a-half had been a very happy one for the couple, marred only by Theresa's refusal to ever completely leave them or the children alone. To that end, she'd trapped Fox into marrying her, no doubt hoping to use the added leverage and status to fight them, and soon after she'd moved into the mansion, they moved out, settling down in the Hotchkiss manor, where they still lived to this very day. Multiple attempts had been made on her part to take the kids away, but none had succeeded, and Fox could generally be relied upon to keep her from doing too much damage.

"Ethan, that's nineteen times in the past year, and seven just in the last two months," Gwen warned her husband after doing some mental arithmetic. "She's been getting worse ever since 'Little Ethan' left for Harvard. This just can't be good."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Ethan agreed. "You know what? I'll call Fox later tonight, let him know what's going on. He'll keep tabs and let us know if she's actively planning anything."

Once they'd settled the Theresa matter, normal conversation resumed, though Douglas noticed that his mother seemed very distant throughout their chatter, and even his father's usual cheerfulness at times felt a little forced. "Is anything wrong, Mom?" he asked, concerned and sensing that more was on her mind than just Theresa.

"What? Oh, no, nothing, honey," Gwen replied after a moment, though not convincingly. Ethan looked down at his plate, as if to avoid saying anything.

Confused, he was about to press the matter further, when Abigail swiftly kicked him in the shin. "Let it go, Doug," she hissed under her breath, "Don't you remember? Today's _her_ birthday."

Douglas instantly understood and said no more. She wasn't often mentioned in the house, at least not around the children, but Sarah's presence was nevertheless strongly felt within the family.

Realizing that their parents should probably have some time alone, the twins each got up as soon as they had finished eating claimed they should probably get started on homework, and proceeded to make themselves scarce.

Having finished themselves, Ethan and Gwen wandered out onto the porch, and stared at the stars. "Sarah would've been seventeen today," said Gwen after a few minutes.

Ethan gently kissed her on the forehead. "I know. I kept thinking about her today, too."

"Oh, Ethan, I don't want the kids to feel like this is a house of mourning, or that they're living in the shadow of a sister they never even knew, but the pain just doesn't go away. I can live with it now, and it doesn't consume everything anymore, but in some ways it hurts more deeply now than it ever has."

"Yes, it does," her husband mused. "As the years go by, I keep thinking of the moments we should be having with her. Her first steps, the first day of school, teaching her how to drive, me buying a shotgun once all the boys started swarming around the house. This year, she'd probably be taking trig, and you might have been helping her with her homework right now."

Gwen laughed a little despite herself. "Oh, you mean like the way I got _you_ through the subject at Choate?"

"Something like that," replied Ethan with a wink.

"I love Abigail and Douglas so much," said Gwen, her voice starting to choke up, "but I'm always so afraid that I'm going to lose them."

Trying to comfort his wife, Ethan began rubbing her shoulders. "Shhh, don't worry. Theresa can't _really_ do anything. We've got Fox, _the_ Crane patriarch nowadays, helping us out, and besides, the kids are just about old enough to take care of themselves. She wouldn't get away with it."

"It's not just that. Theresa might be a perpetual thorn in our sides, but she'd never hurt them. Well, not intentionally, anyway. Maybe I'm just being silly and overprotective, but every time they go out with their friends, I can't help getting a mental image of one of them getting hurt, or worse…"

"I don't think that's silly. We lost a child, Gwen, and Abby barely survived her birth. No matter how many years go by, that's changed both of us forever."

Somewhat consoled by her husband's soothing caresses, Gwen stood silently for a little while watching the stars. When she spoke again, it was to make a confession. "I know it's not healthy, but over the last few years I've started fantasizing more and more that Sarah somehow never really died, and that she might come back to us. I've always done it, but it's become so much stronger ever since Sheridan and Luis discovered that Martin was their son together three years ago. Before, it was a daydream, wishful thinking, but now it's become a recurring dream. Sometimes, I even start believing that maybe, just maybe, the same thing could happen to us."

This train of thought worried Ethan. "Gwen, you know I'd give my own life for that to be true, but we both know that's impossible. It's understandable for you to feel that there might be a chance: Sheridan's our best friend, and we each lost a baby at the same time, but our circumstances were very different. She was kidnapped, and the baby abducted, so that Alistair and Beth _could _make him appear to be dead; we were in a hospital, and we saw her right after the delivery." Ethan didn't want to get too graphic, but he also didn't want his wife to become obsessed with wishing something that was impossible, even in the town of Harmony, where the miraculous, the demonic, and the downright bizarre seemed to be everyday occurrences.

"I know that, really, I do. But it's a nice thought."

"It is," Ethan agreed, and kissed Gwen again. They remained out on the veranda until the cool night air got a little too chilly for their comfort, and they finally retired indoors.


	2. In The Library

Theresa Crane barricaded herself within the library of the Crane mansion, always preferring to be alone during one of her hysterical crying fits that she unfailingly indulged in after every single time she tried to contact the Winthrop children.

It just wasn't fair! Every single person she'd ever trusted in her entire life had betrayed her in one way or another, and now even her precious babies hated her. She shouldn't be surprised, really; Theresa knew how Ethan and Gwen had been poisoning their minds against her, their _real_ mother, ever since they were babies. Of course, it all went back to Gwen, who'd somehow managed to make Ethan think he hated her (which he didn't, he was just in denial because he still loved her more than the blonde floozy, however deeply his he'd buried his true feelings).

That was the reason, and the only reason, that Ethan had sued her for custody of her little Douggie. If Gwen hadn't already warped him so much, they would've gotten married instead: after all, she had Ethan's son, and Gwen had been planning on leaving him and taking the daughter. His proposal was the next logical step.

Nevertheless, Ethan had chosen instead to betray her. That was just the set-up, though, for the ultimate betrayal. Things had been going her way in the custody hearing, since the whole thing had hinged on whether or not she'd drugged him and pretended to be Gwen, and nobody was believing his story. Then, Ethan called his final witness: her own mother!

Well, of course, she'd breathed a sigh of relief: Mama would _never_ say anything against her. But then, the unthinkable happened: Pilar corroborated Ethan's story in an official testimony! The courts took Douggie away, and Gwen took Ethan back. Oh, her Mama had begged forgiveness, claiming that she couldn't lie under oath, that she'd already hurt too many people by lying for her daughter, that she just had to do the right thing and follow the Church at last, but Theresa would never forget that her own mother had betrayed her in the worst way and destroyed her life. In recent years, the two of them had repaired their relationship somewhat, but things could never be like they once were between them.

Throw in the fact that she'd just found out that 'Mr. Wheeler' was really her father who'd left her and the family high and dry all those years ago to run off with Katherine Crane, of all people, and that adds up to a lot of betrayal.

There was only one thing she could do at that point. Fox had been all set to marry Whitney when he found out that the baby she was carrying was really Chad's, and he'd been so angry and hurt that she could do this to him that he unthinkingly said he never wanted to see her again, and she'd felt so horrible guilt-ridden about her deception that she just up and left town. Which meant, of course, that Fox was on the rebound, and since Whitney had given up her claim, Theresa decided that the best chance she had at getting her other children back was to marry Fox, and potentially gain the backup of the considerable might of Crane power, money, and influence in her quest to regain custody. So, they'd made a deal: if Fox married her, she'd help him dupe Chad into losing out in the battle for the title of Crane heir. Sure, she reflected, it was a rotten thing to do to a friend, but she'd just learned all too well that _nobody_ was going to look out for her or her babies except for herself.

"Yeah, that worked out real well," Theresa muttered as she poured herself a shot of gin. "It's too bad, really; Fox and I could've been a great team, too, if Whitney hadn't come back after giving her baby up for adoption, deciding that she really was in love with Fox—"

Theresa's inner monologue was abruptly cut off by a banging on the library door. "Let me in, Theresa!" her husband's impatient voice called out to her.

Theresa responded, but not without resentment. Cursing to herself in Spanish, she opened the door and let Fox in. "What do you want?" she snapped.

Fox didn't answer at first, but gave her a good looking over. "I see you're drinking again, my little boozehound. Tsk tsk, Theresa: remember, that's how you ended up in bed with my father and knocked up with Little Ethan."

Theresa scowled. "Go to hell, Fox. Like you don't drink just as much as I do, if not more."

"Only way to stay sane living in the same house with you, Dearest One," Fox retorted coolly. "Anyway, as charming as our snappy banter surely is, that's not why I'm here. I just got off the phone with Ethan."

Although Theresa kept her outward composure, her stomach began to tie itself up in little knots. "Oh? And?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "You know I've never bought the innocent act with you. You've been harassing the twins again, and I really think it's high time you give it up. Frankly, my dear, they think you're scary."

Although this was a fairly routine conversation for the two of them, Theresa, no stranger to the fine art and science of histrionics, was working herself up into a fevered pitch. "They're my CHILDREN, Fox! Ethan and his BITCH wife have kept them from me for almost sixteen years!"

"No," Fox corrected her, as he'd done, he estimated, at least a hundred times before. "Douglas is your child, biologically speaking. Abigail is not. You hijacked her, remember?"

After sixteen years, nothing could dissuade Theresa from the conviction that she was Abigail's mother in every way that _really_ mattered. "I gave birth to her. She was inside of _me _for nine months, not that barren cow. And what about Douglas? How dare they prevent him from knowing his real mother."

Fox was by now so tired of this argument that he had to fix himself a brandy just to get through it. "It might just be me, but I think the fact that you raped his real father into cheating on his wife to conceive him might have something to do with it. Anyway, if you can remember that far back in your frenzied haze, you'll recall that you did have generous visitation rights with him until, oh, about the third time you tried kidnapping them both."

If looks could kill, Theresa would've been arrested for murder again right on the spot. "I cared about you once, Fox, I _trusted_ you, but you turned out to be just like the rest of them. I thought you wanted me to be happy."

"Oh, there was a time that I did, but I can't quite remember why." Fox paced back and forth a few times, determined not to let his frustration get the best of him. "You know what, Theresa, if you've got so much maternal affection to give, maybe you could look around you and notice _our_ three children once in a while."

"Oh, don't even, you know I love all my kids—"

Fox laughed right in her face. "No, Theresa, you love only what you don't have, have already lost, or stand to lose. Maybe that's why you're such a scheming liar; it's the only way you know to keep the thrill going. I noticed even Little Ethan became a little less special to you once you had him back free and clear."

A tipsy Theresa lunged at her husband, but Fox had no problem dodging her incompetent attack. "Fine, protest all you will," he continued, "but actions speak larger than words, and as much as I try to make up for the fact that my children simply don't have a devoted mother, I can't be not all that they need."

Theresa was not about to listen to Fox's outrageous lies. Instead, she decided to go for a counterattack. "Oh, like you really want them. Yeah, you put on a show, alright, maybe even fool them at the moment, but they're not exactly what you wanted, are they?"

Something snapped inside of Fox, causing him to lose his cool in a way he rarely did anymore. "Now listen here," he growled out in an intense, low voice that would have reminded anyone of Julian in his most passionate fits of rage. He glared straight into her eyes and grabbed both of her arms roughly, effectively pinning her to him. While he spoke, he was shaking her in his fury, practically breathing down her neck. "You're right that I'd give my right arm if Whitney was their mother, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to turn into my mother or father and love them any less because of their misfortune. And they _are_ unfortunate, Crane or not, to have come from a selfish little bitch like you."

Theresa was actually scared, despite her best efforts, and secretly a little turned on, also despite her best efforts. After all, it was "moments" like these that had gotten them their two daughters in the first place. If they stayed like that together for a moment longer, they'd either tear each other's clothes to pieces or tear each _other_ to pieces. Not really in the mood for either, she wrestled her arm away from him with a grunt. "God, you're such a pig."

"Only because you inspire me," was his bitter reply. "Things would've been altogether different if you'd let me marry Whitney."

"Oh, poor little Saint Fox and his tragic lost love! If you've forgotten, you'd already gotten me pregnant with your son, the Crane heir, by the time she'd shown up again to hop in bed with you every time I wasn't looking."

"Yes, I did, but don't you think you were beginning to get a little redundant there, Theresa? Getting yourself impregnated seems to be your solution to most of your major life problems."

This time, Fox wasn't able to duck, and Theresa left a small but clearly visible handprint on the left side of his face. "You know that wasn't enough to keep you from leaving me."

"No," Fox agreed heartily, "but I was prepared to offer you the best child support ever granted, a generous settlement, and full help raising him. But that wasn't enough for you, you'd waited your entire life to be a Crane and damned if you were giving it up now. So you threatened to tell everyone what we'd done to get the empire away from Chad if I even tried to leave you."

Theresa shrugged. "It was my best chance of getting my children back, and I couldn't have done it if you hadn't enlisted my help in destroying Chad's future with the company in the first place. Anyway, I still left you other options. Is it my fault if my **ex**-best friend decided she wasn't enough of a tramp to be your mistress and bailed on you?"

"How you can stand there and say that about the girl who'd been your best friend your entire life, I'll never know." That was a lie, though; he'd been a front row witness to the slow and agonizing demise of their friendship years ago, and could recount almost blow by blow just how the two had gone from loving each other like sisters to each one truly and deeply despising the other.

"Whatever. I don't really feel like talking about her. You should thank me, really. For whatever twisted reasoning he used, your grandfather was far more willing to let me produce the next generation of Cranes than Whitney, and I've given you a family while without sacrificing your birthright."

"_If _they're mine," Fox muttered to himself, intentionally aiming for her to overhear him.

"I'm not that old, Fox. My hearing's still excellent. And don't trot out that old barb anymore. I know you gave each one of them DNA tests as soon as they were born, and did a second secretly in case I somehow faked the first one. Hell, you probably did it a third time just to be safe. I married you because I needed the Crane power for my children, and I'm not about to give you just cause for a divorce yet."

If Theresa had been trying to truly infuriate Fox, she'd certainly succeeded but he decided he'd better just get back to the point and get out of the library before he and The Light of his Life began reminiscing over other tender episodes from their past. "I sincerely doubt that that's the _only_ reason you value the Crane name, but that's neither here nor there. This thing with Ethan and Gwen has got to stop. I don't care if that's your whole objective for our wedded bliss, I get along with my half-brother now and I intend to look out for him and his family. I've tried to keep this within the family and do damage control myself to prevent bad press for all of us, but if you break the restraining order one more time I'm going to have to let the police handle you."

Unwilling to argue anymore, Nicholas Foxworth Crane took leave of his dearly devoted wife, who remained fuming after him, and quickly gulped down another shot of gin. What could she do now? She would never give up on her children as long as she lived, but she knew when her husband was serious, and he meant every word that he said, meaning that she'd have to be a little more subtle about things next time.

"I know!" Theresa declared, her eyes lighting up as they were formerly wont to do in the bygone days of yore. "They're too old for me to grab them and take off anymore, but if I can turn them against Ethan and Gwen, or at least Gwen, then they'll want to know me once they turn eighteen and their legal parents won't be able to stop them from coming back to me."

Now Theresa had a course of action. The only thing she still needed to figure out was just what could be the perfect catalyst to break up the Winthrop home.


	3. The Next Generation

(A/N: Since I've started this fic, I've watched in fixated awe as Theresa has, episode by episode, shown herself to be far more despicable an excuse for a human being than I've _ever _envisioned her as. Originally, I saw her as delusional and nutty, but not fundamentally horrible, a fun soap character, with a storyline that had real potential with Fox. However, when she failed to show even the slightest remorse at Sarah's death, I started feeling disgusted; when she planned on **crashing Sarah's funeral** (initially before Lil' E was taken) while **wearing Gwen's wedding ring on a chain around her neck**, I started thinking Rebecca was more or less justified in her planned retribution; when she drugged the surrogate and kidnapped the embryos, I was mortified; when she RAPED Ethan (let's call the act for what it is, people!), I was appalled; when she announced that she'd rather let both children DIE than give one to Gwen, all the while lecturing Gwen and Ethan about the tenets of their Catholic faith, I thought she couldn't sink any lower. Gee, Theresa, maybe if you'd ever actually _read _the Bible you would've been familiar with the story of King Solomon threatening to cut the baby in half to test who it's real mother was—what am I saying, if Theresa had been there, she probably would've just tried to make sure Gwen's half wasn't any bigger than hers!

But now, oh yes, she's managed the impossible feat of topping even that pronouncement in terms pure unfeeling malice: after making a big to-do about her religious convictions (HA!) she's done an about-face and is actually planning to order a DNA test with the intention of specifically aborting GWEN'S baby so that Ethan and Gwen won't have anything to tie them together and he'll come back to her—WTF?!?!?! Whatever happened to the "connection" she felt with both children, and the love she professed regardless of their biological mother? Now, she's intentionally setting out to kill a specific baby in place of her rape-child in hopes of breaking up its parents. To be sure, the decision she has to make is a wretched one, but her motives behind her waffling decisions are absolutely abominable. Now, I don't want to personally insult anyone, but I honestly don't understand how anyone can defend her and claim she's just a misunderstood dreamer anymore when she's just made herself into an infanticidal monster!

As far as I'm concerned, Theresa should immediately and permanently lose any and all rights to Little Ethan, the surviving twin(s) regardless of maternity, _and_ any future children she might yet produce, for their own sake. Actually she should be serving a good 20 year prison sentence for all the crap she's pulled. Of course that won't happen, and she'll come out of this mess not utterly destroyed, but if she winds up with LE, one or both of the twins (who I still suspect will both miraculously survive), AND Ethan to boot, I think I'll pull a Theresa myself and deny responsibility for any actions I might take regarding a certain twisted head writer. It's FATE, everybody.

Sorry for my not-so-little rant, but at times I just can't believe what I'm watching. All that said, in light of recent episodes I've come to believe that I've actually depicted Theresa _too charitably _in this fic, where she's only an incompetently ruthless, scheming, obsessive loony, and not fundamentally evil. For the purposes of this story, I'll continue her portrayal as I originally envisioned it, and now, even on the actual show, God help poor Fox if he winds up stuck with this psychopath.)

* * *

Since there wasn't really a whole lot to do in Harmony, Douglas and Abigail usually loafed around with their circle of friends after school at the Book Café. Martin Lopez-Fitzgerald was there, as well as Maria Lopez-Fitzgerald, Endora Lenox, Michael Dinh, Lani Kuntal, and, much to Abigail's chronic chagrin, Madeleine Andrews.

Along with the Dinh and Kuntal families, Madeleine Andrews had come to Harmony with her father about five years ago, when Uncle Fox recruited some of the nation's top doctors with the goal of transforming Harmony Hospital into one of the world's major research centers. After the death of his wife, Dr. Matthew Andrews had decided that he and his daughter needed a fresh start, and apparently he'd decided trading in Los Angeles for the East Coast was their best chance of doing so.

For some reason, she and Abigail had been instant enemies almost from the moment they first met. Whatever it was that initially triggered their animosity, neither could quite remember, but certainly it wasn't anything serious. Somehow, though, one thing after another kept pitting them against each other: now it was the school paper, and before that, the debate team, the tennis team, the community soccer league, and so on. Because they shared the same group of friends, and especially since Madeleine had started dating Abigail's best friend Martin, each went through the motions of maintaining a public truce, but their mutual hostility was never very far from the surface.

Michael sighed over his cappuccino. "Isn't there anything else to _do_ other than hang around this stupid bookshop? Nothing interesting ever happens in this boring town."

Abigail could've sworn that she saw Maria and Endora share a smile that wasn't meant for anyone else to see. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she always felt that there was something strange, maybe even sinister, about those two, like they were in on something that nobody else was. Abigail tried to push the thought out of her mind, wanting to give her friends the benefit of the doubt. It was probably just some private in-joke, anyway; not surprising, considering that those two were practically as close as any sisters. Heck, they'd even lived under the same roof until they were six and Aunt Kay had mysteriously come into some money that had allowed her to set up a fairly successful rare antiques shop and she and Maria had moved into the outskirts of town.

"That's for sure, Michael. We should all take a trip this summer, or over Easter break," Abigail responded after shaking off her inner monologue. "Somewhere exotic, too. Harmony _is_ dull as dirt, and I'm sick of dodging tourists three months of the year. I'm sure my mother could arrange a cruise, or maybe another tour of Europe, for all of us."

"Oh, great," Madeleine muttered. "Remind us all that between your mother and your uncle, you can get just about anything that you want."

Abigail narrowed her eyes. "Oh, like you're so working-class, Madeleine. You're the daughter of an ultra-important neurosurgeon _and_ you're going out with a Crane!"

The rest of the group sighed. Here they go, as usual, drudging up the same list of alleged offenses that they always did. About time, too, since it had been over a week since either had directly insulted the other.

Madeleine slouched casually into her chair, all the while looking her adversary right in the eye. "Well, at least I don't use family connections to get extracurricular positions I'm too young and inexperienced for."

"I happen to be editor of the paper because our advisor liked my work better than yours," Abigail retorted. "And I don't go around tripping people down flights of stairs just so my biggest rival can break her arm and I can get the number one singles position just in time for regionals."

"Oh, come on! I didn't trip you and you know it. Knowing you, you probably threw yourself down those stairs so you'd have an excuse not to compete."

"Why, you—"

"Hey, both of you, why don't you just give it a rest?" Martin stepped in, deciding he'd better stop them before his girlfriend and his best friend started drawing blood. "Look, why don't you just agree that there's been misunderstandings on both sides and let it stop there?" he implored, though he knew it'd probably be about two weeks, if he was lucky, before they were at it again.

"Alright, Martin," Madeleine answered reluctantly, "I'll try." For her part, Abigail merely nodded, and both refused to look at each other.

"Well, now that that's decided," Lani began, eyeing both of the combatants warily, why don't we actually _talk_ about this trip. I actually think that sounds like a lot of fun. May be if we…"

And so the scene went on, a superficial peace having resumed in the lives of the teens, most of them unaware that a most sinister force was even now threatening to wreak havoc on them from the inside.

* * *

"Mom, I'm home!" Endora announced as soon as she and Maria had entered the living room of the Lenox home. Apart from the obvious signs that a teenager now inhabited the dwelling place, the interior of the house had changed very little over the past couple of decades, the decorum still that strange mixture of old lady eccentricity crossed with faint suggestions of the occult.

"Anyone else with you?" her mother's questioning voice called out from the kitchen.

"Only Maria."

"Well, then come on in!" The two friends casually tossed their jackets onto the sofa (much to the consternation of Fluffy Jr.), and complied, only to find Tabitha Lenox crouched over the blue bowl that had sat in the center of the kitchen counter for as long as either of them could remember, her brow furrowed in concentration as she closely monitored something, or, as was more probable, someone.

After a brief moment, apparently satisfied with whatever it was she'd just witnessed, she swiftly clapped her hands and welcomed the two girls.

"How was school today, Endora?" Tabitha asked after giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek. "Get up to any trouble?"

"Not anything exactly _evil_," Endora admitted sheepishly. "But Mr. Montgomery did have the hardest time keeping his toupee on after he gave me a C on my history essay."

"There's nothing wrong with that, on an off day. Sometimes, you know, it's the sum of little humiliations that can really destroy people's mental health." After this affirmation, Tabitha then turned her attention to Maria, whom she greeted warmly, as usual. "And how are you, dear?"

"Pretty good, Aunt Tabby."

"And your mother?" Tabitha inquired. "It's been a couple of weeks while since we've chatted. Is she still bringing pain and suffering to all the good people of Castleton?"

"She does her best," was Maria's brisk reply. "She's been above quota for six months straight now."

"Oh, I _am _glad to hear it!" said Tabitha sincerely. Not only did it nicely service her pride to know that her former pupil in the Black Arts was still doing so nicely for herself in a neighboring district, but Kay Bennett had, over the years, become her very dear friend, an affection that extended to her daughter.

Maria, meanwhile, was attempting to steal a peak into the bowl, once again disappointed to see that Tabitha had taken the precaution of dissolving the image. "Hey, Aunt Tabby, do you think I could take a look, see something what's going on?"

Sometimes, Endora just had to roll her eyes at her best friend. Maria tried something along these lines nearly every time she came over, and always got the same answer.

Sure enough, Tabitha shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Maria; you know I can't show you any magic if you're not an official trainee."

Maria responded with a typical seventeen year-old's pout. "But, Mom _never_ lets me watch when she's at work. She keeps saying that just because she ended up working for the Dark Side in order to be able to provide for me doesn't mean she wants me to turn out that way. How am I going to learn witchcraft if _you_ won't teach me anything?"

As always, Endora's mother remained firm. "You know how I feel about this. I just don't feel comfortable making you my apprentice before you're of age."

"You're already training Endora," Maria pointed out obstinately.

Tabitha sighed. In oh-so many aspects of her personality, Maria truly was her mother's daughter. Both tended towards one-track thinking, and neither ever knew when to just give it up. "She's my daughter, you're not. And, she's part demon, which you're just not."

With an annoyed grunt, Maria exclaimed, "I don't see why you have to respect age limits or parental permission. You're evil!"

"That doesn't mean that I'd feel right going against a colleague and friend's expressed wishes regarding her daughter. I do sympathize, dear, but you'll just have to wait a little while longer."

Maria decided she'd better to let the subject go. For now. "Fine."

Relieved, Tabitha asked them if anything interesting had happened today.

Maria piped up right away. "Not really, Aunt Tabby. Those morons we're supposed to hang out with for cover are as boring as usual. We did get a nice little bitch-fest between the two blonde wonders, no offense, Endora, but that didn't last very long."

"They're not all morons," Endora said thoughtfully. "I think Abigail suspects there's something weird about us."

This gained most both Maria's and Tabitha's undivided attention. "Oh?" said Tabitha, cocking her head inquisitively.

Maria was genuinely confused. "What do you mean? She hasn't said anything."

"It's not anything she's _said_, and I could be wrong, but the way she looks at the two of us sometimes, it's as if she senses something's off and doesn't quite know what to think."

Tabitha digested this new information. "Sounds like the kids are growing up and getting a little smarter. I wouldn't worry too much, just don't either of you let anything slip about us. That reminds me, though; our Friends in the Basement will most likely want the torment to begin for this generation soon."

Endora didn't want to say so outright, but she wasn't really all that sold on the idea. "Do we have to mess with the Winthrops? I actually sort of like them."

Maria snorted. "You mean you sort of like Douglas," she observed pointedly. "As in, you're completely crushing on him."

"I am not!" Endora declared, though she was blushing slightly.

Maria shrugged. "Whatever. Hey, I'd actually better be getting home. Mom's actually trying to cook without "help" tonight, so she'll probably need me to help clean up once everything explodes."

After Maria was gone, Tabitha gave Endora a more thorough looking over, as she was concerned by her daughter's subdued demeanor. "Is everything all right, my little hellbeast?"

Endora turned away. "It's fine, Mom."

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. A mother can always tell. Now, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really," Endora insisted, though she kept looking down at her hands. "But, do we have to mess around so much with people we actually _know_?"

The old witch was surprised by her daughter's question, to say the least. "Why, Endora, that's what we do! I'm a witch, and you're practically demonic. And, need I remind you, that these are mere mortals we're talking about?"

"Yeah, I know, but doing horrible things is just not as much fun when you actually know your victims, and these people are my friends. I'm…I'm afraid I'm just not measuring up to the great evil I'm supposed to be."

Tabitha didn't know what to say at first. She had not been blind to the observation that the child's initial magnificently impressive inclination towards malevolency had gradually diminished through the years. This of course worried the old witch, though she certainly wasn't about to tell her daughter that. "Don't worry, Endora. I know exactly what's going on with you."

"You do?" Endora asked, fairly surprised considering that she herself had no idea why she was having all of these feelings that went against everything she had been taught.

"Of course! You're just going through a rebellious phase, trying to "find yourself," as the Muggles would say. Young people didn't go through it too much in my time, but nowadays it seems to be the norm. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll go right back to your wonderful, malicious personality before long."

"You think so?" Endora asked hopefully.

"I'm sure of it. After all, not many young girls attempt their first murder before they're even born, and on their own father, too!"

"That's true," admitted Endora, brightening up a bit. "And I _was_ something to fear last year when Hecuba escaped from her bottle and we spent six months fighting her."

"I'll say you were!" Tabitha agreed. "You utterly destroyed a powerful witch centuries your senior. Not many young hellions can lay claim to _that_, let me tell you! And now's our big chance to _really _make the citizens of Harmony suffer."

Endora swallowed. If she was ever going to get over this phase and fulfill her birthright, she knew she couldn't start getting all squeamish. "Alright, then, what are we going to do now?"

Tabitha smiled gleefully. "Good old Theresa is at it again, this time trying to find a way to destroy the Winthrop family at its very core. I think we'll help her this time. In the meantime, I need you and Maria to make sure that Abigail and Madeleine continue to hate each other. Oh, it does my heart good to think of all the old wounds that are about to get ripped open in the most painful of ways!"


	4. Old Lines, New Actors

(A/N: This chapter is shorter than most of my others will be, but I just wanted to provide a bit of an interlude here, along with some basic background and plot development. I apologize if the New Teens seem to be taking over the story, but I need to focus on them to fill in some of the missing timeline with their relationships. The adults will (probably) be back full force next chapter, which should be up in a week at most, depending on schoolwork and a possible period of depression if the Shrub wins reelection. Though this chapter is short, I hope you enjoy it, and as always please R/R.)

* * *

The next day, at the high school, Maria and Endora were hanging out in front of their lockers in between class periods, hoping to catch either Madeleine or Abigail in the hallway. At length, between fifth and sixth hour, they were rewarded with the sight of Madeleine heading hurriedly towards them.

"Hey, Maddie," Endora greeted her for the both of them when their "friend" walked over to say hello. "How's it going?"

"Hi guys. As well as can be expected," she replied, making a sour face. "We just had Journalism."

Endora and Maria looked at each other knowingly. "Oh," said Maria, carefully modulating her voice to convey empathy. "Any nasty blow-ups?"

Madeleine sighed. "Not today, but Abigail was practically glowing over her appointment."

Endora frowned. "Really, Maddie, I don't think you're being fair. You two need to get past this juvenile rivalry of yours."

"Yeah," agreed Maria heartily, "It's not like she actually did anything underhanded to take the position away from you. I mean, that rumor that's going around is just so ridiculous that I don't know how you can believe it."

This got Madeleine's attention. "What rumor?"

"Oh," exclaimed Maria, "you didn't hear, then? It's stupid, really. Never mind. I shouldn't even have brought it up"

"No, I want to know what's being said," Madeleine insisted.

Maria thought about it for a second. "Alright, but I'm warning you, I don't think you should believe a word. I heard it in the lunch room, and apparently some people think that Abigail hacked into the network and sabotaged the article portfolio you submitted."

"Now, please," Endora added when the color began to rise in Madeleine's face, "remember that you know as well as anyone how unreliable the gossip is here. I'm sure it's just a couple kids who want to cause trouble."

Sure enough, Madeleine was thoroughly incensed. "The snake! I'm sorry, you two, but if it was _anyone_ else, I wouldn't have believed a word, but Abigail…? That's exactly the sort of thing she'd do! Oh wow, I have to get going, but thanks for the heads up."

As soon as Madeleine was gone, Endora gave Maria a discreet high-five. "Nice one. She totally bought it. I must say, your idea of sabotaging her portfolio and laying it on Abigail seems to be working quite nicely."

Maria smiled slyly. "Why thank you. Although, I've gotta admit, after five years of this, those two are so willing to believe _anything _about the other that our job is really not that hard. I think what really did it was when you zapped Abigail and made her fall down those stairs when Madeleine was right there."

"Yeah, it was simple enough a hex, but pretty well-placed, if I do say so myself," Endora admitted with fond reminiscence. She might have started feeling strangely awkward about wreaking havoc in these people's lives of late, but that didn't negate the natural pride she still felt in a job well done.

"I just can't believe how easy it's gotten," Maria repeated. "A couple of years ago, we had to be so much more subtle about pitting them against each other, but now they just eat it up. And Abigail's even worse than Madeleine."

"That's true," the young witch observed. "She _does _have a pretty paranoid and suspicious personality. Probably not surprising, though, considering someone's been out to kidnap her all her life. I think it's made her unusually quick to believe that someone's out to get her."

Maria snickered. "Boy, these stupid mortals are so gullible."

"You better watch what you say," Endora rejoined with a good-humored smirk, "you're talking about your own kind.

She shivered at the thought. "Ugh, don't remind me! Not for long, though: I will become a full-fledged witch someday."

"Your mom's _really _not going to be happy about that," Endora pointed out matter-of-factly.

Maria displayed no undue concern. "She'll have to learn to deal with it. I know she doesn't want me following in her footsteps, but I see how the great mass of people are just manipulated like lab rats, by people like us, and I don't wanna be like them. Which is why I need _someone _to help me get started."

Endora groaned. "Not this again. Look, Maria, we're best friends, and I love you like a sister, but sometimes I really want to kill you, _painfully_, especially when you get all fixated on a particular idea. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm not doing it."

"Come on," Maria pressed, "if neither my mother nor yours will teach me any witchcraft, you're the only one left who can."

Endora shook her head. "No, Maria, you know I've been strictly forbidden."

"Christ, why am I the only one willing to break a few rules when you're, like, Rosemary's Baby?"

"You already know why, you're just being stubborn. Just because my birth was a great boon to the Forces of Evil doesn't mean I'm exempt from their rules. I won't be authorized to corrupt people down the path of darkness for a couple of years, and if I do, our friends in the basement really won't like it."

Maria looked at her best friend imploringly. "Please," she pleaded, "you know why I have to do this."

Endora understood. "Your father."

Maria's entire countenance was overtaken by pure hatred. "No," she corrected bitterly, "the loser who got my mom pregnant and then skipped town when she was in the hospital, with no way to take care of me or pay my medical bills, since he never even managed to send us money like he promised. I've seen the guy, oh, maybe five times in my life that I can remember. I'll **never** call him 'Father.'"

Endora did sympathize with her friend. After all, she was none too fond of her own father. Still, it didn't change the facts of their situation. "Look, I know you hate him, but…"

Maria laughed viciously. "Hate? That's an understatement. I want him to suffer as much as humanly possible, and then be erased from my existence forever. You know how I've begged my mom to let me legally change my last name to Bennett, but she always refuses. After all these years, she still hasn't gotten over the scum! She's ruined her life over him, become something she hates, and still she gets angry at me if I 'disrespect' him. Oh, I'll do worse than that; I'll make him pay a hundred times over for everything he's done to us!"

Maria had gotten herself so worked up that her voice had steadily risen way above the hush that the two of them generally used when discussing such things in public places. "Shhh!" Endora hissed urgently, "Keep it down! Do you want the whole school to hear you? As I've said before, I'm not telling you not to get your revenge, just that it can wait awhile, until you're old enough to begin an apprenticeship."

Maria shook her head furiously. "That could take years. He's returning to Harmony for a little while in a couple of months to visit _Abuela _Pilar, oh, and _me_, or so he claims," she added, rolling her eyes.

"It's the prefect chance, and I need to be ready. Please help me, Endora," she begged, hot tears threatening to spill down her face. "You're my best friend, the only one who understands what this means to me."

Endora felt herself starting to waiver. "Well, there are a _few_ spells and hexes I could probably teach you without too much risk. There's not a lot of time, though; I'm not sure how far you could get in only a couple of months."

"Pfft! I'm not worried about that," Maria assured her friend. "My name might be Lopez-Fitzgerald, but I'm still a Standish woman, after all, with all of the innate supernatural ability that entails and none of the pesky morals. I think I can manage." Having said that, she engulfed her friend the typically overly enthusiastic hug of a teenage girl. "Thank you so much! I promise you, you're not going to regret this."

"I certainly hope not," Endora intoned uncertainly. That matter settled, for better or for worse, the two of them headed off to Calculus, hoping that Endora's glamoury would prevent their teacher from noticing that they were at least fifteen minutes tardy.


	5. A Short Interlude

(A/N: Just for clarification, for the purposes of this story, "Little Ethan" really is Julian's son, rather than Ethan's, and Marty is the son of Sheridan and Luis, not Antonio. Antonio, by the way, is actually dead, or if he isn't he at least never came back to Harmony after the plane explosion.)

* * *

Maria Lopez-Fitzgerald made her way carefully through her mother's antique shop, carefully avoiding bumping into any of the expensive clutter that surrounded her. This was the part of the store that the general public could see: a trendily eccentric hodgepodge of curious odds and ends that had, over the past few decades, become a considerable hit, making shopping at _Kay's Yesteryear _a must for all the impressionable yuppies that frequently visited the picturesque coastal town.

Maria, though, was headed for the back rooms, sealed off by a glamoury from the sight of common eyes, where the real meat and potatoes dealings of her mother's business took place. Stepping through an invisible barrier, Maria found her mother haggling expertly with one of her regular customers. The teenager kept silent; she knew not to bother her mother while she was at work.

"No, I'm sorry, Mr. Flinchwit" intoned Kay Bennett, clad in her usual trendy, vaguely New Age get-up that the more mundane customers would expect of the proprietress of such a tastefully odd establishment as they thought the shop was, "but I just can't go under $30,000. Do you know how rare Babylonian obelisks are these days? All known surviving relics were smuggled out of the Mesopotamian temples on the eve of the last Iraq invasion."

The slimy old man stroked his limp, stringy beard with his long and spindly fingers as he examined the knee-high structure. Maria made doubly sure to stay safely hidden out of sight, as the man for years had had the disgusting habit of patting her head whenever he saw her. "Yes, but it's hardly in perfect condition," he argued, pointing out a chip in the obelisk's otherwise smooth obsidian surface. "Surely that takes a few thousand off the price."

Unruffled by the criticism, Kay folded her hands in front of her chest, a sure sign that she was not to be brought down. "If I was appraising it based on its aesthetic value, then yes. But I'm not selling this artifact on its potential as a conversation piece. The obelisk's structural integrity is unaffected, and as you well know there's simply nothing better for channeling the elements. If you're not interested then I'm sure I can find plenty of other customers who would find my selling price a bargain."

Flinchwit remained silent for a moment, before reluctantly deciding to take it. "But I'll need a certificate of authenticity, and I expect the price of delivery to be included."

"Of course, and you'll receive all the proper papers with the delivery," Kay promised as she led her customer to the door while making all the necessary insincere small talk and thanking him for his business. It wasn't until the old creep had left that she let her mask of indifference drop away.

"Yes!" Kay squealed, pumping the air with her fist.

"Nice sell, Mom," Maria congratulated her as she stepped out of her hiding place behind a stack of cartons filled with quite reasonably priced dragon scales, dried goblin eyeballs, and the like.

Kay hugged her daughter enthusiastically. "That's the third one this week! I knew investing in Sumerian goods was the way to go. Maria, I think this calls for a celebration."

Maria had to admire the deft flair with which her mother handled the magical market. "That's great, Mom. Maybe you could show me how to use one of these things."

Kay shot her only child a forbidding look, but chose to ignore the girl's needling so as not to spoil her good mood. "No, Maria, I was thinking more along the lines of a dinner at the Seascape for the two of us, with no expenses spared."

"That sounds nice, too," Maria acquiesced. "I could definitely go for a nice filet."

"Alright, then, I'll make the reservations for tonight. It'll be nice to get out, just the two of us girls. Although," she added, smiling broadly, "maybe it'd be nice to go again when your father gets here."

Maria froze, drawing away from her mother. "What makes you think he'll even want to be seen with us? It's not like we see him more than once every four or five years," she spat out viciously.

"Maria Ivy Lopez-Fitzgerald, you will _not _talk about your father that way," Kay ordered, her eyes storming over perilously, causing her to look far more like the dangerous and powerful witch she really was. "He loves you, and he wants to see you more often, he just…"

"Is too busy wandering around the country looking for your cousin, because he'd rather waste his life like on a woman who ran off to avoid him than be around either of us?" Maria finished for her mother. "Face it, Mom, he doesn't love you, and he never will."

Kay looked as if she'd been stricken. "That wasn't very nice," she said quietly.

The teenager softened as she saw the pain etched into her mother's features. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, reaching out to hold Kay's hand gently, "I realize I'm being really blunt. It just kills me when I see you pining for the low-life. It's been this way ever since I can remember. When I was little, you just kept saying, 'When your father, comes back, things will be different,' or 'when your father comes back, then we'll be a real family,' but it never happened, and I hate it when you say it will, because I just know you'll get hurt again. Look at the way you torpedoed your life over him. If you hadn't, then you wouldn't have been stuck with me, you would've found some decent guy, and you would've had a real family."

"No," said Kay firmly, though tears had welled up in her eyes. "You're the one thing in my life that I don't regret. I never resented having you in my life, and I've always wanted to be there for you."

"Maybe you did, but my 'father' obviously didn't. Don't you see? We don't need him in our lives. What you should be doing is using your powers to get your revenge on the SOB. I'd totally be willing to help."

Kay was actually glad that Maria had steered the confrontation into an area that she was more comfortable dealing with. "I am not going to plot revenge on Miguel, and neither are you. Nor are you going to be learning any of my witchcraft. We've had this conversation many times before."

"Yes, but—"

"No 'buts.' I'm not proud of what I am, Maria. The only reason I sold out to the Dark Side was because I couldn't properly provide for you as a cannery worker, and even if I could, my abdominal injury keeps me from doing hard labor. I wanted to give you the life that you deserve. I've got enough saved up now for you to go to absolutely any college you want, and have a normal, decent life."

Maria held her tongue, but privately she didn't have much regard for most of the "normal, decent" people in Harmony. Her "good" father had abandoned her, the "sainted" Lopez-Fitzgerald family treated her like an after-thought, and all she saw around her were small-minded, petty rivalries and flagrant stupidity. To be sure, she did love her Grandpa Sam and got along fairly well with his wife, Maria's namesake, but as for the rest of her extended family she couldn't really care less. On the other hand, her mother had worked hard and built a life for the two of them, Tabitha had always been a caring constant in her life, and Endora was her closest friend in the world, and yet they supposedly were the "evil" ones.

When Maria didn't reply, Kay took it as an opening to have the last word. "You're just going through a phase, Maria. Soon enough you'll come out of it, and then you'll be glad you didn't do anything rash."

Maria said that her mother was probably right, but privately she remained unswayed. _Sorry, Mom, I love you and all, but I **will **become a witch, and I **will **make my pathetic excuse for a father pay for everything he's done to the both of us_.


	6. The Status Quo

When Ethan entered Fox's office, he found his younger brother deeply engaged in a conversation with his youngest daughter.

"And what do you talk to the other country's about, Daddy?" the six year-old asked, focusing intently on her father while she sat on his desk.

"Well, Elisa, so sometimes they ask me for favors, and sometimes Daddy gives them orders."

"And will they do everything you say?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"If they know what's good for them," Fox answered with a fiendish smile.

The little girl giggled, looking up at Fox through sandy brown bangs with unhidden admiration. Clearly, as far as she could tell, her father was like some sort of all-powerful being. Which, Ethan had to admit, wasn't really far from the truth.

At length, father and daughter noticed Ethan standing in the doorway. "Hi, Uncle Ethan!" the little girl enthused, running up to her uncle. In return, he scooped her up in a hug.

"Hey there!" he answered with a grin, "how are you doing?"

"Did you know there are over a thousand people here, and they all have to do whatever Daddy tells them?" she asked confidentially.

Ethan winked. "I had some idea."

"Hey," Fox interjected, "your uncle and I have some work to do. "How would you like Peggy to show you how the mail room works?"

Although she had no idea what a "mail room" was, Elisa, generally of a cheerful disposition, enthusiastically agreed, and Fox called for her nanny to take her out of the office.

"Giving her the grand tour?" Ethan asked, highly amused.

"Yeah, Elisa had a day off school today, and she wanted nothing so much as to see where Daddy worked," Fox explained with a self-satisfied grin. "She's been all over the place, too, so that I could hardly get any work done. You caught her in one of her quiet moments"

"Yeah, I remember when Douglas and Abigail used to run amok all over the mansion, getting into all kinds of trouble. I sort of miss it," Ethan remembered, threatening to get mawkishly sentimental. He and Gwen would have loved to have had more children, but with Gwen's infertility it was a miracle that they'd even had Abigail. "The kids do grow up fast."

"Yeah, I hear you. I can't believe Nicky just started high school, and Lucy will be in junior high next year. Let's face it, Bro; we're a couple of dried-up old men."

Ethan had to laugh, privately marveling, as he did every so often, just how far they'd come from the adversaries they'd used to be, who could barely stand to be in the same room together. He had to admit, though, that Fox had defied all of his expectation to become a real stand-up guy instead of the useless playboy he'd always written him off as. These days, they had something resembling an actual family relationship. "Hey, Fox, I hope that Theresa didn't give you a hard time about things. I'd take care of it myself, if it weren't so important now that there be NO extra publicity surrounding our families."

Fox shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Ethan. We both know that international security could be at risk if too much light is shed on some of our operations. Theresa knows that, too, which is why she knows that you won't do anything about it. Leave it to Theresa to take a threat to the entire human race and twist it to her own personal advantage, huh?"

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I've drawn up the contracts you wanted. They should be airtight."

"Good, then I can tell the research division we're good to go."

"Think Durkee will be able to handle it?"

"He's always come through so far, ever since Mark-gate."

"True enough."

"Don't worry about it, Ethan; as long as everything stays hush-hush, I don't see how anything will go wrong."

* * *

Meanwhile, Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop was busy trying to decipher the Anderson briefings that her newly hired assistant Lisa had left for her. Unfortunately, she wasn't having much luck, which was simply intolerable considering the vital nature of the contract in question, a joint venture by Hotchkiss Enterprises and Crane Industries that had important implications for national security. In her father's final years with the company before he'd retired, Jonathan Hotchkiss had moved into the direction of robotics research, and Gwen had continued the move, making Hotchkiss one of the leading names in the burgeoning nanotechnology industry. Because Crane Industries was handling the defense contracts in the current global crisis that the vast majority of the world remained totally unaware of, Hotchkiss expertise in this critical field was of vital importance.

Incompetence of any kind simply couldn't be allowed when the stakes were so high, and Gwen figured she would soon be looking for a new assistant once again. She'd been through quite a long list of them ever since Paloma had left to get married, thus depriving Gwen of one of the best employees she'd ever had.

Not that she begrudged Paloma her happiness in England. Gwen might have originally hired Paloma at Rebecca's bequest as a means of gaining intelligence on the younger woman's estranged sister, but over the years the youngest of the Lopez-Fitzgerald children had become a close personal friend as well as a professional asset. Thus, when Paloma met and fell in love with Gwen's cousin Robert Hotchkiss, now Earl of Redmond, Gwen was nothing but encouraging of their storybook romance, and she had ultimately come to value Paloma even more as a relation than she had as the protégée she'd groomed for the executive track. Of course, it wasn't a total loss, though, as Paloma was now doing a fabulous job running the British division of Hotchkiss.

In the midst of her struggle with the ineptly drafted report, Gwen's intercom system lit up. "Yes?" she asked after pressing the appropriate button.

"Your mother's here to see you," the secretary's static voice replied.

Gwen groaned, knowing from experience that when Mother showed up while she was working, it generally resulted in causing her a headache. "Send her in," she replied in resignation.

Within the next few seconds Gwen was rewarded with the sight of Rebecca Osburn Hotchkiss Crane Richardson Wellesley Huntington as she scurried in to greet Gwen. Age certainly hadn't mellowed her mother a bit: from her brassily unnatural red hair to the smooth, taut face that Gwen suspected had had seen more plastic surgery than the entire run of _Nip/Tuck_, to the startlingly loud skin-tight violet dress that prominently displayed ample cleavage (most likely also helped along artificially), everything about the woman explicitly defied the concept of "aging gracefully."

"Hello, Mother," Gwen greeted the woman dutifully. "Is there a specific reason you've come to visit?"

Rebecca huffed a bit as she plopped down opposite her daughter. "Gwennie, sometimes I don't know about you. Do I _need _a reason to come and see my favorite child?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "I'm your only child, Mother. And my question still stands."

"Well, that's all the more reason for you to be my favorite, isn't it? Anyway, yes, if you must know I came here to celebrate," she announced, whipping out a bottle of expensive champagne and a pair of crystal glasses.

"I guess you won your latest divorce settlement," Gwen remarked, shaking her head in wonder. After her marriage to Julian had been invalidated due to the revelation that his initial divorce from Ivy was never legal, Rebecca had embarked on a profitable career of serial marriage and divorce. "But don't you think it's a little early in the day for a drink?"

Rebecca clucked disapprovingly, although her daughter's prudishness could hardly dampen her happy mood. "Yes, I did, and the alimony payments required of poor Clyde are out of this world," she announced with triumph. "And I only wanted to share the good news with my beloved daughter, but apparently she'd rather act like an old fuddy-duddy."

Over the years, Gwen had become well accustomed to picking her fights, and this was definitely an instance in which it was easier for both of them to just humor Rebecca. "Alright, alright, I'll have a toast as long as you stop guilt-tripping me. But you know, I _am _a middle-aged woman with teenaged children of my own."

Rebecca shivered and almost spilled the champagne that she was pouring. Handing one glass to her daughter, and swallowing the contents of her own in a single swig, she said, "And I'll thank you very much never to remind me of that unhappy fact again. Speaking of which, Abigail's sweet sixteen is also coming up next month and I want to make sure that it's extra special."

"I'm well aware of that, and I'm handling the preparations for the twins' birthday."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," allowed Rebecca condescendingly as she poured herself another drink. "But a girl like Abigail deserves something truly distinctive for such a milestone, something to set her apart; send her on a trip around the world or buy her some jewels, _something _to show she's not some little commoner. I mean, it's bad enough that she goes to a public school and mingles with all the riffraff children."

"Both of the children are happy and doing quite well where they are. With Abigail's grades, there's no reason she shouldn't be able to go to an Ivy League university when she graduates. And I wish you wouldn't do this."

"Do what?" asked Rebecca, genuinely baffled.

"Talk about Abby like she's your only grandchild. It's Douglas's birthday, too. You know I don't like it when you favor my daughter over and above my son."

"Now that's just ridiculous," said Rebecca. "I'm quite fond of the boy. Just as I told you, keeping him gave Ethan a son and infuriated Theresa, so what's not to love? But I think it's only natural that I prefer my own flesh and blood to the spawn of that pathetic hussy."

"Oh, that's a nice way to talk about him!" Gwen replied with protective anger. "Don't you understand? This stopped being about revenge a long time ago. You know I love Douglas just as much as I do Abigail, and I wouldn't even keep thinking about his biology if you and Theresa didn't keep bringing it up all the time."

"Is Theresa at it again?" Rebecca asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You know her. She's _always _at it. If we didn't have Fox on our side nowadays, I don't know what we'd do. Poor guy," she mused, "he bears it well, but anyone can see the toll she takes on him."

"Yes, well, better him than Ethan," Rebecca responded pragmatically. "I must say, Theresa got a whole lot more than she deserves. Fabulous wealth, Crane power, and a singularly handsome, well-muscled, incredibly hot husband…" As she contemplated Fox's many attributes, Rebecca's geriatric eyes began to glaze over.

Gwen shook her head. Truly, some things never change. "Would you stop that, please? You used to be his stepmother!"

"No more legally than Theresa was!" Rebecca rejoined defensively. "Speaking of which, you know she's just blowing hot air, Gwennie. You won, and there's not a damn thing she can do about it."


	7. The Plot Thickens

"Mrs. Crane?" one of the maids (Theresa hadn't bothered to actually remember any of their names for the past several years) tentatively inquired, poking her head into Theresa's bedchamber, as though she feared to find her mistress in a bad temper.

The lady of the house, who had been pacing back and forth, mentally brainstorming a list of schemes she might pull off to snag Ethan, destroy Gwen, and regain her children, in that order, looked up unfavorably at the transgressor. "What do you want?" Theresa asked crossly, figuring that the girl, who looked rather young and inexperienced, had simply come to ask her a question about the running of the house. God, the help was so inept these days, and so unlike the exemplary order that her mother had always kept when she was the head housekeeper. "And this had better be good. You know I don't like to be bothered unless it's absolutely necessary."

The girl trembled, knowing that Theresa Crane had become notorious for capriciously firing all servants that dared to displease her. Nevertheless, she stood her ground. "Please, Ma'am, you have a visitor who wants to see you. A strange old woman, with curly blonde hair and an, er, 'interesting' way of dressing. She says her name's Tabitha Lenox, and that she's an old family friend. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't supposed to let anyone in unless they were specifically expected, but she just kept insisting to see you."

"Tabitha's here?" Theresa asked, half to herself and thoroughly confused. What could she possibly want to see her about? As it was a sort of unspoken rule in Harmony that you talk to Tabitha if she wishes to talk to you, Theresa felt like she could do nothing but agree. "Alright, I guess I'll see her. Where did you have her wait?"

"In the anteroom next to the library," the maid responded, thankful that she hadn't had to face Mrs. Crane's disapproval. Theresa thanked her absentmindedly, and proceeded downstairs to find out why on earth Tabitha had come to call on her.

"Hello, Theresa," Tabitha greeted, handing her a small black tin filled with what looked like misshapen, half-burnt cookies of some unknown variety. "How _are _you doing, my dear?"

"Uh, hi, Tabitha," Theresa responded uncertainly, taking the tin as respectfully as possible. It was bizarre, but if Theresa hadn't known better, she would've sworn that Tabitha didn't look a day older than she had when Theresa herself was just a little girl. "I'm doing fine, I guess. Wow, you look…great, really, like you haven't aged in years."

Tabitha flicked her head back in a laugh. "Yes, I know, everybody tells me that. What can I say? Having a child in my life just keeps me young."

_More like permanently fossilized_, Theresa thought, though she did have sufficient manners to refrain from vocalizing her opinion. She gingerly set the cookies on a nearby table, while making a mental note to have them exposed of as soon as the strange elderly lady left. "I guess you're doing well, then?"

"Oh, yes, my dear. My health is still holding out, and my daughter is an absolute joy in my life. How is your family doing?"

"Oh," Theresa smiled awkwardly, trying to figure out where this whole thing was going, "my kids are fine, Mama's doing well, Luis and Sheridan are still happily married, and Miguel hasn't given up hope of finding Charity."

"And what about your sister? I talked to Pilar a few months ago, and heard that Paloma was expecting her third child. Has she had it yet?"

Theresa stiffened. Most people in Harmony knew that the subject of her treacherous baby sister was not one to be brought up in her presence, and very few even dared to mention Paloma's name when Theresa was around. Struggling mightily to control her temper, Theresa brusquely answered, in a tone that did not invite further inquiry, "Honestly, I wouldn't know. Paloma and I aren't exactly close."

Looking to change the subject, and hopefully alleviate the bad mood that she had just developed, Theresa exclaimed, "I have to admit Tabitha, it is a surprise, seeing you like this. What brought you here."

Tabitha smiled sadly. "Well, you see, the other day my Endora had her friends over, and Douglas and Abigail were amongst them, and it got me to thinking about how long they've been separated from their poor mother, and I suddenly got the urge to check up on you, so I whipped up a little treat and came right over."

At the mention of the twins, the muscles in Theresa's face contorted themselves into a pained expression. "Oh, thank you, that's very thoughtful. Do you, uh, see them a lot?"

The eccentric old woman nodded in the affirmative. "Oh, yes, my dear, all the time; as I said, they are very close to my daughter."

"That's nice," Theresa said longingly, tears beginning to form in her large brown eyes. "I used to get to see them on holidays, but I haven't been allowed to visit in years, not ever since I dressed up like Santa and tried to carry them off in a sleigh when they were seven. Ethan and Gwen claimed that it traumatized the children, so now, Fox just takes our kids and visits without me."

"That's outrageous," Tabitha clucked sympathetically. "After all, what were you supposed to do? What would any mother do?"

Theresa reddened, all of her maternal instincts rising to the surface, as there were so often wont to do when the Winthrop twins were involved. "That's what I said, but judges don't care about what's in a mother's heart; all they see are things like 'psychological profiles' and 'criminal records' and 'restraining orders.' But, how are Douglas and Abigail? Do they ever mention me?"

The elder woman looked all around her uncertainly, as if unsure as to how she should answer Theresa's question. "Not very often," she admitted at length, her voice teeming with empathetic regret, "and when they do, I'm sorry to confess that it's only to express how much they hate you. It does break my heart to think how those two little dears have been taught to resent their real mother: Douglas your very own flesh and blood, and Abigail connected to you through the unbreakable bond created when a mother carries a child."

Now, Theresa was really starting to tear up. "You're so right, Tabitha, and I know that I can just get them alone for more than a few minutes at a time, then they'll see that everything I've done was all for them!"

"I'm sure you could," Tabitha began, but neglected to finish her thought when she became distracted by a noise very much like a door slamming shut in the adjoining room. "My goodness, what could that be?"

"Oh, probably just someone to see my husband," Theresa explained offhandedly. "This is a side entrance to the library; whoever is meeting with him must have come in from the foyer. When Fox is home, he usually likes to do his business in the library. It's nothing we need to be concerned about."

"Why, Theresa, I'm surprised at you!" Tabitha exclaimed, staring at the younger woman in mild shock. "I would have thought that a woman in your position would always make sure to know exactly what was going on under her own roof."

Theresa was thrown. "Well, I do try," she stammered out defensively, "when it seems important, but of course I can't listen in on _everything_—"

Tabitha clasped the younger woman's hand apologetically. "Of course not, and how very rude of me to even bring it up. Maybe we should leave the room…"

Theresa shook her head. "No, I think you're right, I should be more up on what's my husband's been up to. Why don't we listen in?"

And so, the two of them squeezed up against the mahogany door, fortunately open just a slit, and proceeded to eavesdrop in upon Fox's dealings.

* * *

"Alright, Jacoby, what do you have for me now?" Fox asked. Eight-and-a-half years ago, soon after Alistair had finally done the first decent thing in his life and died, of a heart attack, ironically enough, and Nicholas Foxworth Crane had been named the new president of Crane Industries, Fox had begun the long and arduous task of digging up all the old family secrets. From what Fox could tell, sometime soon after Luis had nearly exposed everything at the Founder's Day Dance thanks to a single CD-ROM, Alistair had become far more careful about how he stored all potentially damning evidence. Tiny clues, all leading up to a bigger picture, were scattered across the Crane network, individual hard drives, individual CD-ROMs, outdated old zip disks, and the like, and encrypted with a system so secure it would put the CIA to shame. Because of this, each secret could take years to put together, and Fox had found it necessary to hire an encryption expert, Brian Jacoby, for the sole purpose of doing this detective work for him.

From time to time, Fox had to wonder why Alistair even went to all this trouble. If he had been so determined to make damn sure nobody could repeat what Luis had done, why didn't he just destroy all the evidence of his wrongdoing and be done with it? There were only two explanations Fox could conjecture; one, that this was simply the way that the mind of a megalomaniac worked, that to feed his own ego and truly revel in his victory he had needed to feel that he remained just a few steps ahead of detection at all times; if this was true, then Fox figured that his late grandfather had far more in common with a Bond villain, or even a bad guy on _Batman_, than anybody had ever suspected. The other possibility was that he'd always intended these things to be found out, by the next Crane heir, but had wanted him to figure it out himself, a sort of character-building or intellect-sharpening exercise.

Whatever it was, over the past eight years Fox had managed to dig up more than a fair number of skeletons: some, like the true identity of Martin "Wallace" Lopez-Fitzgerald he'd announced right away, some he'd quietly destroyed, either to protect individuals he didn't feel justified in ratting out or to protect Crane Industries from being brought up on criminal charges, and still others he'd set aside for blackmail purposes in case he needed leverage in future dealings, whether business or personal. Initially, when he'd taken over the business, he'd vowed to really change the Crane image, operate more ethically, and actually use his vast wealth and power to accomplish something positive, and on the whole he'd succeeded; however, he realized more acutely than anyone that when dealing with a past as blackened as his family's was, extreme measures were sometimes required to uphold the Crane name and maintain the status quo.

Jacoby smiled. "Something pretty juicy this time. Apparently, your late grandfather knew all along who really sent the bombshell about your half-brother's paternity to the tabloids."

This certainly managed to perk Fox's attention. Sitting a little straighter in his chair, he said, "Alright, then, who did it? Was it my lovely wife after all?"

"Actually, no. It was sent from her laptop alright, but Mrs. Crane had nothing to do with it, other than scanning it onto there in the first place. The real culprit was Rebecca Hotchkiss, though her daughter acted quite willingly as an accomplice."

Fox sat back in his chair, fairly floored, as he processed the news. He was truly shocked—not about Rebecca, nothing that old harlot did would have surprised him, but Gwen…? True, his sister-in-law was no saint, and there was a time that that mother of hers could talk her into just about anything, and she generally became a totally different person whenever Theresa was involved…well, maybe it wasn't really so surprising now that he thought about it. "Oh, wow. That's, yeah, that's some pretty interesting news there."

"Isn't it? What do you want me to do about it? Should we make this public, let your brother know what kind of woman he's married to?"

"No, I don't think so," Fox finally answered after a long moment of silent deliberation. On the one hand, he felt something of an obligation to tell Ethan, but then again, what good could it possibly do any more? That was decades ago, and his brother and Gwen had built an entire life that only stood to be ripped apart by this revelation. That _did _mean letting Gwen off the hook for her treachery, but he truly believed that she loved him, whatever it is that she'd done in the past. Besides, just the thought of what Theresa would get up to if this came out made him cringe. "No, I think this is one secret that needs to stay buried."

Jacoby nodded. "I'll destroy all the data right now."

"Good. Oh, and of course you know what'll happen if you tell _anybody _about this or anything else you've decoded.

"You'll kill me and make life miserable for my entire family," Jacoby recited, unable to stop himself from gulping nervously. On the whole, Fox Crane was a generous boss and a nice guy to deal with, but Jacoby had absolutely no doubt he'd follow through on any threats he made if the occasion called for it.

"You got that right," Fox replied lightly with a still-boyish grin. "Good work, though, and you can expect a nice bonus. Now, if there's nothing else you got for me, I really need to get back to the Anderson report."

* * *

"Oh my," Tabitha intoned in wonder as soon as they'd heard Jacoby leave. "Who would've thought that it was Gwen all along? And to think, if it weren't for those tabloids you and Ethan would've gotten married years ago!"

Theresa seemed to be frozen in place, as if she had just received more information than she was capable of processing at the moment. At length, she began to function again, and her facial expression contorted itself into one of abject rage doing battle utter delight. "My God," she finally remarked, not sure whether she should feel horrified or thrilled, "everything that's ever happened to me really _is _Gwen's fault!"

My dear, this must be so very hard on you. You just found out that your life should've turned out very differently, and it's all the fault of a woman you've hated for years." Tabitha took her hand soothingly and tried to make her sit down, but Theresa unthinkingly shrugged her off.

"Are you kidding!" Theresa responded decisively, delight having just won out. "Do you have _any _idea what an opportunity this is for me?"

"I'm not sure I follow, Dear."

Theresa was on Cloud Nine, and didn't think twice about making any sort of confession. "You see, I've been looking to dig up something nasty on Gwen, but I didn't dare think it could be anything this juicy. The most I was hoping for was that I'd uncover some sort of crooked business dealing, but instead, this just presented itself to me, like its fate!"

"It's certainly sounds that way!" admitted Tabitha brightly.

"Oh no, Theresa suddenly stated, her euphoric mood crashing down all around her. "It won't work."

"And why not?"

"Fox just had all the evidence destroyed. I've got no proof."

Tabitha thought about Theresa's conundrum for a minute. "That is a problem, I must say. But, couldn't you send Ethan a letter anyway? It might make him suspicious, and Gwen could always slip up and give herself away."

Theresa was far from confident, but had to agree that it was better than not doing anything about this. "And if this works," she told a smiling Tabitha, her self-confidence rapidly gaining by the second, "then Ethan and I might finally be able to be a family!"


End file.
